Being Alive
by K. J. Pitre
Summary: Kyle suffers a great deal with trying to show Stan his true feelings for him. Stan reacts in a way that Kyle would have never imagined in a million years. KylexStan SLASH Kyle's POV
1. While he Typed on MSN

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NOTE:

**NOTE 2: **_**Most of this story is actually true. It is about my love trials with another boy that I considered my best friend. And yes, I am ALSO a boy. And yes, boy + boy GAY. The most of this chapter is true. A LOT of this chapter is very true. Chapter 2 will not be. None of it.**__**It goes needless to say that "Being Alive" is not a song that I own. It is from the musical "Company" and is composed and written by the one and only Stephen Sondheim.**_

**NOTE 3: **_**You might probably WANT to read the paragraphs. I know there are people who enjoy to skip the words and get to the dialog and, if they're alone, act out the voices. I do it too (guilty as charged lol). You must read the words. It gives you a better image and possibly a more romantic view at the two boys. Neither I, or the boy I liked, looked like Stan OR Kyle, and we probably never will, just pretend that we did.**_

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**"Being Alive"**

**By Kyle Pitre**

I, Kyle Broflovski, now age 14, found myself taking a familiar road I knew all too well. On my way to the Marsh family residence, there in that house lived a boy named Stan. I knew him for such a long time, that I almost had forgotten how fast the years went by and how many were behind us. Ever since I was 8, I had always had strong feelings for Stan. Sometimes, I thought, these strong feeling stretched far beyond the boundaries of friendship and into something deeper, more sophisticated, more intimate. I was unsure all that time, but for the past few years, I was certain.

When I turned 9, I confessed to Stan that I was a homosexual and admitted that it was he who had changed my opinions towards love. The way Stan looked. His body. The way it was so skinny, but no too skinny to look gross. He was perfect. The way his medium length midnight-black hair curtained his sapphire eyes. In the sunset, when there was a light wind and a strong burning sun with ruby skies, I would see Stan's eyes captured in the sun light making them look the colour of a deep, soft velvet purple. My knees practically went to mush whenever I saw this phenomenon. Now, I never needed a sun set or a light wind to capture Stan's utter beauty. His perfectly sculpted face and his elegant neck.

Stan had stopped wearing his hat, even though it was his trademark, and let his silk shadowy tendrils loose on his ears and on the right side of his face. I thought I should compete with this. I started to change my appearance as well as puberty took a strong hold. I began to wear a white, long-sleeved button-up with a green sweater over top with the white shirts wrists folded over along with the collar. This, in fact, made me look far more intelligent along with my stylish, studious glasses resting on my nose. Along with puberty came far sightedness. I also straightened my hair. No matter how long I straightened it for, it still came out wavy, but I liked it. With age, my auburn hair became slighty darker and more red, almost the colour of blood, but without the tint of hair dye, but with the shine of satin.

Still, no matter how long I thought about life and how much our roads have made detours and twisted and turned but always became a one-way at the end, it still didn't stop my legs from moving. The chillyness of the wind made me wanna turn back, but the heat of the fall's sun made me venture on. I had no idea what I was going to say, but I knew it had to come out. Sure, it was hard enough to tell Stan I was gay, it made me cry, Godammit, but it's even harder to tell a boy that you like him. I mean, that you _really_ like him.

I used to date girls back in grade school. I used to like this girl named Rebbecca, but she got into making out and became a little whore. Then there was Bebe Stevens, but I ran away after I kissed her. That was probably one of the clues that made he figure out I was 'fay.' I had feelings for some of these girls, I thought, and I used to think that _that _was what love or like was. Then I began to have strong feelings for Stan. He went to Italy, for a month, and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat (I still don't eat. I wanna maintain my thin body so that I don't look so fat next to him. He's already thin as it is). Whenever I thought about him, my heart would beat like crazy, I would sweat, and my mind would run rabid! Only images of holding his hand, or sitting with him and kissing him and undressing him only made me realize that this is what 'like' was. Not like what ever it was I felt with girls. Then he came back. And I told him I was coming over.

And there it was. Stan's door. I looked up to see if he was in his window. He wasn't. Maybe I could have told him from the window and then jet down the sidewalk like a mad man. Then maybe he would run after me, grab my shoulders, twist me around and kiss me as passionately as he possibly could. I wanted him to come after me. That's usually what I want with someone I feel for, but I never had, not as much as I liked Stan. Kenny supported me all the way, but he didn't think I should tell him just yet. But what does HE know?! Kenny, in a matter of speaking, is a dirty slut. He doesn't 'put out', so to speak, he simply looks for this perfectly sexual fantasy with another chick. Despite how dirty Kenny was, even though his sky-blue eyes and his shaggy dirty-blonde hair _was_ kind of cute to some degree along with a crooked smile, he would think that every 'would you go out with me' or 'I like you' would turn out just as he planned. But when it came to others' relationship problems, he became somewhat realistic... _Somewhat_...

But Kenny wasn't here to say 'No', it was just me. Me and this God damned door that I couldn't manage to knock if my life depended on it. But there _was_ a knock on the door. After opening my tightly closed eyes, I could see my clenched fist recoiling after knocking. I suppose that was my heart speaking. I waited anxiously, almost hoping not to hear thumping feet on the stairs, but at the same time wanting that golden knob to turn so I can get this over with. And there they were. The stomping feet coming down from the stairs. He was expecting me so they were extra fast. I didn't know what to do. I ditched! I leaped into the nearest hedge and shut my mouth for my life! Stan's amazingly sexy hair popped from the open door. He looked straight ahead, not looking in any other direction and closed the door after 4 seconds. I stood up in offense! He didn't even look my way. He could have noticed my bits of hair hanging out of the hedge, but he gave up just like that. This pissed me the hell off! Everyone knows that when someone knocks on your door, your supposed to at least look for, what, 30 seconds at the least?

I hopped out of the hedge and knocked on the door more fiercely. The door was opened almost immediately. Stan opened it again, a bit confused. "Hello?"

"You can't just give up that easily!" I shouted, laughing a bit so it didn't seem like I was too angry.

"I'm sorry, but there was no one there," he replied.

"Ya, but still!" I looked to the ground. "Soo..."

Stan moved out of the way and I walked in, still looking at the floor.

"So, you had something to say?" Stan asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "Can we go somewhere else? Like, in your room, or something?"

"Sure."

Stan walked upstairs and I quickly followed him. God, what a sweet ass! After we reached the second floor we made a couple turns and went into his room. I loved the smell of his room. It smelt of him. Stan had the best smell in the world. I've had a few opportunities to catch his sweet scent. Sure it smelt like guy, but with a mix of stale candy. It wasn't AMAZING, but it was the best smell for any teenager to have aside from dick, or cigarette smoke. He plopped is butt on his soft bed. It was small, but it was big enough to fit two skinny bodies. I wonder if he laid down near the wall I could sneak in a cuddle... STOP!

"So, what's up?" Stan asked.

I began to pace. I don't know if Stan liked it or not. I assume he didn't because it gave him a feeling that I was troubled. Normally, he would be confused, but this time it was getting annoyingly typical. The entire week he's been back, I was always so awkward around him, that it became a habit. But once I got this over with, I'm sure it wouldn't happen any time soon. Or at least, I _hope_ not.

"How long have we been friends?" I finally asked.

"Since we were 4," he answered comfortably.

"And... uhh..." I didn't know how to put it. I became red in the face. I began to look at something else, I can't remember what it was, but my eyes quickly shifted to his Game Sphere, I think, or was it his computer? I can't remember. But I found myself laughing. Laughing at absolutely nothing. It wasn't a hardy laugh, but it was almost an awkward, nervous laugh. Kind of like the laugh you make when the Joker in Dark Knight makes a joke, or does something grotesque, kind of like that, only I couldn't stop. And Stan couldn't stop staring.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Yeah!" I answered seriously, but that fucking smile couldn't escape my face. "Yeah, Stan, something _is_wrong. Something's _very_ wrong!"

"Dude, if it's about Hairspray 2, I already know," he replied. "Or is it about the Rocky Horror Picture Show remake with Marilyn Manson?"

"No, dude!" I shouted. I didn't mean to shout. I know now that I was being a major dick, but in my mind then, Stan was being a complete dip shit. "I'm sorry... It's not your fault. I've just been under a lot of stress lately. And... God... This thing has just been on my mind the whole time."

"Then tell me!" Stan said. "You've told Kenny, I know, and freaking Butters, but you can't tell _me_? I've been feeling left out, lately, and I don't like it."

Now I realized why he wanted to know so badly. It wasn't because the thought of it all was driving me crazy, and he doesn't want me to be stressed, but he's just feeling left out. I've been feeling left out too, way more than he fucking knows! I'm just the person in the back waiting for a moment to cut in while Stan and Wendy talk each others' ears off. I thought Stan was being selfish then... I'm pretty sure I still do think so.

"It sucks, I know," I said.

I couldn't tell if the expression on Stan's face meant 'Wait, you've been feeling left out? I'm sorry, I didn't know' or if it meant 'What the hell are you talking about? Are you _looking_ for pity?'.

"Well," he said getting up. "I gotta check my e-mail." He clicked on the monitor and pushed the power button with his big toe. And what a glorious toe it was. Perfectly groomed, no dirt, no cracks, recently cut, no callouses... STOP! STOP IT!!

He didn't even ask if it was alright if he would go on the Internet and still talk to me. I needed his undivided attention. But I suppose he could care less. I needed to make him care. I couldn't let him off that easy without giving him a jump in his seat or give me a "WTF' look of shock and surprise. This couldn't be taken lightly and it wasn't about to.

Stan's msn screen automatically glided in front of his face. He typed in his password... I wish his password was 'Kyle.' Maybe then it would show if he still cares for me, if he ever did, for that matter. Maybe the password was 'ILuvKyle.' But for all I know, and for what a jerk Stan was being to me, it's probably 'FuckMeWendy' or 'IHateFags.'

Stan had been gone for a week, so all of his online friends wanted to see how Italy was. I sat on the bed ready to throw my shoe at Stan's head, but I slowly opened my eyes in a nervous sweat and opened my mouth.

"I like you..."

Stan turned around and looked at me. "What was that?" he asked. "I couldn't hear you with the msn sounds and everything."

"UUUGGGGHH!!" I collapsed onto Stan's bed in an exhausted anger. I took me this long to actually say it, and he was too fucking arrogant to even give a flying FUCK! I remained face down on the bed. He was still looking at me.

"What?" he asked.

"I just told you," I answered still muffled from his pillow.

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, just say it again..."

I jolted up onto my feet. "I LIKE YOU!"

Stan stared at me with open eyes. Despite how angry I was with the little fuck, and no matter how surprised he was, it was a golden moment for me, in a way. Not with my emotions, but I got to see Stan's gorgeous eyes like I've never seen them before and _that_ almost made me cry. The moment had nothing to do with it, but it was help.

"Oh..." he said. He looked at the carpet with those words still in his head.

'Oh?' I thought. Is that all he had to say?! 'OH?!' I fucking like the guy! Not even an 'Oh my God' or even a 'Wow,' but... 'Oh?'... I made it seem like none of those thoughts flooded my mind. My face remained passionate and truthful.

"I didn't see that coming," he said. And then he turned around on his chair and continued to type.

And there it was. Just like that. Everything I had worked for resulted in an 'Oh' and then a turn-away, like it never happened. As much as Stan probably cared about what I said, he didn't let it seem like it did. And, DAMMIT, he did a good job.

"Kyle," he began, still typing. "I... I... Honestly, I don't know what to say."

"Anything!" I immediately said. I couldn't let him slip away. Not this easily. "Please, just... Just say whatever's on your mind."

Stan, still typing, might I add, the asshole, began to speak. He would open his mouth, breath in, emit some sound, then give up with an exhale. He did this only a few times, but it was clear he didn't know what to say. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But he never looked at me. I was getting a feel that when ever he spoke, and then gave up like that, it meant that he didn't know how to say something that would make me go away.

"Well..." he began. "I... I don't know, I... umm..."

"Come on, Stan!" I shouted. "It's been bugging the fuck out of me to tell you what I've told you just now! I know this probably has ruined our friendship, but either way, I would have looked at you differently. I've been with a couple other girls, and I thought I knew what 'like' was, but ever since I started to like you, I've been feeling so... Amazing! I've never felt this way about anyone in my entire fucking life! And I'm talking to you now, and I at least thought you would say something... And now you're not... You make me feel so great, Stan. Whenever I imagine us walking, or holding hands, or kissing, even, get these awesome pulses through my body that make me feel like a new person. A new Kyle."

And there it was. I said what I needed to say. All except for 'Will you have me?' and 'Can I kiss you?'. Stan finally turned around. He looked scared... _Really_ scared. Well, no, he didn't. He looked like nothing had happened. But I knew he was scared. I knew this had a big impact on him, he just didn't want to show it. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want me to feel, jerk! He simply stood up and walked out of the room. And that was it.

Then I stood up, and walked after him...


	2. The Thrill of the Hunt

_**NOTE: This is where the 'Being Alive' song, which I do not own, may I add, kicks in. If you are familiar with the song Being Alive from the Broadway musical 'Company,' than you'll understand how they fit in. Remember, this chapter and furthermore are 100 percent false in my history in love. Enjoy!**_

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**Chapter 2 - The Thrill of the Hunt**

Running was not my forte, I'm not gonna lie, but it was something I had to do. But I didn't think I _had_ to run, either. After he left, I just thought he left to throw up. I wish he would only throw up, that would mean two things. One, he's not ditching me, and two, he has some sort of affection for me. That's what he did all the time whenever he saw Wendy, it goes without saying. I opened Stan's door from the inside after he left and expected him to be at the top stair walking down slowly and thinking about what had just unfolded before him, but instead, I saw something different. Instead of seeing him walking, when I poked my head out of the door I saw the top of his head just disappear down the stairs at a great speed. He was running. Running away from fear. Running away from his feelings. Running away from me. We've been friends for so long. And although, I'll admit, I was acting strange that day, Stan was the one acting strange by simply picking up and running off. He was never one to run off like that, but deep in my stomach in the deepest and darkest trenches of my gut, a little bit of me knew he was just gonna run off like this. But, Goddammit, I was really hoping he wouldn't. But he did, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I raced down the stairs after him only to find a door open wide and Randy and Sharon looking confused. They stood up as soon as they saw me running after him.

"Um. Kyle?" Randy asked.

"What?!" I responded, more loud and rude than I had planned to reply, but I wasn't planning on letting Stan go that easily.

"Um... What did you do?"

"Uggh... Nothing! Nothing! I just need to get to Stan!" I didn't allow them to say anything else, so I bolted for my life.

"What the hell is going on?" Sharon asked her husband.

By the time I got out the door, Stan was already on his bike and down the road. I had no idea what to do. I looked at the garage and saw Randy's bike. I hopped on it at full speed and rode it even faster. I suppose Stan figured I couldn't catch up to him so he took his time. I adjusted the gears so that the less I pedaled, the faster I went, so I pedaled my life away. It looked like I was catching up. God I hoped that Stan would run into lights; he'd have to stop then. There were lights there. They had just turned red. To my surprise, which I was hoping Stan wouldn't do, he ran right through the red light, having cars swerve around the boy so that he wouldn't kill himself. Although I preferred to obey the law, I had to make Stan show that I cared for him so much that the boundaries of law wouldn't even be able to stop me!

I drove around every car I encountered and I barely made it out of there alive. After the intersection, there was still only one road and Stan was not far. Stan didn't take the chance in looking back, which he probably should have done if he was planning on avoiding me because he would have seen me gaining his ass. Finally, he did look back and he noticed that I was on him. He immediately swerved off of the road and into the forest on the right side of the road. I, of course, had no idea that was coming and after the front wheel smacked into the bumper of a parked car, I was catapulted over the roof and onto the front window. I heard a smash and I felt my backside sinking into the hole I had made. I hoped my ass off that I hadn't scared the shit out of random people. And if I had, I hoped that they were random people, and not people I knew.

My eyes opened after minutes of pain and I lifted by back out of the hole. As soon as I got up, still sitting on the hood, my back cringed in a cold pain. I've been cut. In many places. I could feel the individual pricks of glass jetting into my flesh. Thank Jehovah my spine wasn't seriously damaged. I slowly got off of the hood and saw, thankfully, that no one was in the car. Thankfully, Stan's tracks made a serious imprint in the mud, and I followed his trail. I don't know how far he had gone, but I was hoping he would experience my fate only with a tree stump or something. I didn't want him to get ahead of me.

I began to walk normal pace but immediately bent over with a cry of pain. That glass did a lot more than I had hoped. I had to walk ever so slowly, but if you're moving, you're moving, right? I walked right over Stan's tracks hoping that I would find his sleeping body on the dirt. I hoped he wasn't too hurt. It didn't matter how much Stan didn't want this, but I wasn't going to give up on him.

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I wish it hadn't taken that long just to follow this guy. It must have been a few hours. The sun had finally set, and I was getting desperate for any kind of sign. I was upset. But little did I know then that people over at my house and Stan's house, people were worrying. People were panicking. Their sons had been missing for hours and they couldn't do anything about it. We were too young to cross any borders and South Park was just about the smallest town in Colorado. Search parties didn't do much, the police were idiots, and all they could do was call for their lives.

"Stan! Stan!" Sharon shouted on the road. "Stan, baby! Stanley! Stanley darling! Stan! Angel!"

She wasn't the only one. There was Randy, and Sheila and Gerald Broflovski.

"Stan! Stanley!" Randy cried. "Stan Love! Stan! Stanley! Where are you, son?!"

"Bubbi! Kyle honey! Kyle-Sweetie!" Gerald and Sheila barked. "Kyle! Kyle darling! Kyle! Kyle answer me! Kyle!"

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It had been at least one more hour, I couldn't tell. I didn't carry around a watch. I hate watches. They're so ugly. I figured that 'cause the sun was down early and it was Fall, so it was roughly 7 pm. But after the thing I saw, I couldn't give two rat shits about the time. I saw Stan's bike leaning up against one of the big trees. But it wasn't damaged or anything so he couldn't have crashed. I saw his foot prints, so he must have stopped. Maybe he decided to rest. He might be asleep. Oh, gosh, I've only watched him sleep a handful of times, and God, what an angelic face to have when sleeping. But he wasn't sleeping. I followed his foot steps and I heard no snoring, I didn't see a body. The foot prints led into the bushes. I slowly parked the bike and walked over the steps. I stuck my head into the bushes and saw Stan on his knees at the side of a small lake. His gloves were removed as well as his jersey. His knees were wet and muddy. I guess his pants will _have_ to come off, then... I heard a loud watery swishing sound. Was he finally throwing up?! No, he wasn't. He was drinking. His left hand supported his upper body from the water and his right hand was cupped and delivering hand fulls of semi-sanitary water into his dry-lipped mouth. Of course, Stan was being an utter pig at a trough, but watching him lap all of that water was the oddest turn on. I couldn't explain it, but it made me even more attracted to him, observing his survival instincts in the middle of the woods.

Then I fucked up. I fucked up good. I stepped on a loose twig. There was a snap. Stan's head jolted up from his drink and twisted letting the liquid still lingering onto his hair sprinkle his white T-shirt. As much trouble I knew I was in, I couldn't help but notice the water clearing his body for me behind that white T-shirt. I could she his cute soft abs and his nipples which were up and alert from the cold refreshing pool. He saw something too. Me. My eyes. The way the leaves of the brush shadowed all of me but that oh so bright moon captured my eyes like a panther in the midnight grass ready to dig his claws into a living piece of meat. He saw the lust in my eyes, but the utter surprise that I had for giving off my position.

Stan had one chance. He got up, leaving his gloves and jersey behind and ran as fast as he could. Despite the overwhelming stab in my back I ran that much faster than him with my blood still flowing and Stan slightly bloated from the 500L of water he had just consumed. I sprinted for my very soul and leaped my heart out. I grasped the curves of Stan's waist and took him down into the dirt with me. Stan knew there was no use resisting and lay there in the filth. He knew he had to say something and I knew he knew. And he knew I knew he knew. It could go on, but that's just about as far it went. We laid together, my arms still around his waist, not to capture the moment, but to regain composure and breath. Finally, Stan sat up, still breathing, though, and I did as well, letting my grip around his waist go.

"What the hell is your problem?!" I shouted. Stan deserved every bit of it. I don't care how cute those puppy eyes were. "I could have been killed, you idiot! Do you have any idea what happened back there?! I destroyed a freaking car!"

"You... You what?!" he asked breathing heavily.

"I ran into a car and broke the front window! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!"

Stan got up and returned to the pool. He was dirty. I didn't care how dirty he was. He wasn't going to simply ignore me again. I walked right behind him. When he was at the water and about to remove his hat, and pushed him in. Just like that. First his arms flailed and then his body was swallowed by the shallow waters. I nodded to myself a nod of satisfaction, but was I willing to go so far just to make a point. I'm not sure. He hurt me.

"What the hell?!" Stan asked.

"You can't just walk away from me again!" I yelled. "You think you got it bad?!" I turned around and removed my sweater. Stan saw first hand the small pieces of glass and the gashes they made. He gasped and cupped his mouth in fright.

"Dude," he said. "You gotta get cleaned up."

I turned around and looked into his eyes. This was the first thing today that he did which revealed any sign of a soul. But I traveled this far, and this is what I wanted, so to speak... But not like this. I dropped my sweater on the dirt. I removed my shoes and socks and walked up to the water's limits. It dabbed my big toe into the water to test it. It was so warm. Surprisingly warm. Fall had just made its visit. I'm pretty sure Summer ended yesterday. I guess it was still Summer, but I didn't care. The water was inviting. I stepped in, not before removing my pants and boxer briefs. As soon as the water poured into the cuts, my fists tightened and I bit my lip. Stan quickly turned me around and got a closer look at the shit I went through just to see his face. He began to remove the thick pieces of glass. I'm not gonna lie, it hurt like a fucker, but there's a price you must pay in life for the little things that make it perfect. Soon, the pieces were out and somewhere in the depths of the blue. Stan began to cup hand-fulls of water and poured it onto my back. It stopped hurting and began to feel good. After a few more cups of water wet my back, Stan began to rub the soft skin around my gashes with a single finger. Of course it was difficult because there were so many, but the slight tickling sensation made me hard. Of course, I didn't let Stan know, but he probably knew anyway.

"Look," Stan began. "I'm sorry about what ever you had to do to get to me. I guess I was just..."

"Selfish?!" I snapped, turning around and looking straight at him. "You hurt me, Stan! You hurt me too deep! You made me feel unwanted!"

"Well... We're in the woods and it's dark, and... you know I hate being alone. You know me too well."

"What are you saying?"

"I want you now. To be with me. I'm a little scared of dark scary forests."

"Why should I do shit for you?!" I was starting to cry. I felt the tears stream down my chin and into the water. "I put myself through Hell for you! I was almost hit by a fucking car, only a car was hit by _me_! You're the most... the most..." I couldn't say it. My anger and sadness have completely choked my throat. I was going to collapse in the water, but Stan held on. He pulled me up and embraced me like the friend he should have been.

"You're holding me too close," I said opening my reddened eyes. "You're probably a bit uncomfortable."

"I'll hold you for as long as you want," Stan answered. Although he held me for my sake, it was a little bit for him too. He was always wondering how it felt to hold me naked. I suppose it was his guilty pleasure. It was mine too, but dammit, I was way too sad.

He held me in his embrace for about 5 minutes. That was all I needed, really.

"Thank you," I said finally, softly, not to ruin anything with sudden sound. "You have no idea how much you're helping me."

"I might have an idea," Stan replied with a crooked grin.

I looked at his smile. It was cocky, but the cutest thing. Usually, it was Kenny who did that smile. It went so well with his shaggy dirty-blonde hair. It was the first time I noticed he was smiling at all today. The second time, actually, the first was when he opened the door and I jumped into the bush. Now was the second.

"You ready to call it a night?" he asked softly. Almost like mother. He had that soft touch when it was needed. He would make an excellent father some day, there was no doubt about that. I looked up at him like a small child and nodded.

With his arm around my shoulders, he guided me to the dirt and handed me my clothes. Once all my clothing had been placed on my soft, wet skin, Stan had already made a bed out of leaves. Of course, I wasn't ready for bed _quite_ yet. I had to sit down for a moment. I sat next to a big tree. Stan looked at me. He walked up to me to ask a question.

"Yes?" I asked with a small laugh.

"I don't mean to be pricky, but you're sitting in my chair," he had said.

"I'm sorry, I'm what?

"You're sitting in my chair."

"It's a spot."

"But I had a perfectly good view of the lake from there if the sun was in the right place."

"Does it matter, really?"

"Yes, cause I called it first. You weren't there."

"Maybe I would have if I hadn't crashed into the car while you swerved into the fricken forest!"

"Whatever..."

Once again, he had retired his efforts. He rolled onto the pile of leaves and began to sleep.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, but laughed after I realized it was over a stupid spot. "No one said you couldn't sit next to me. It probably has the same view."

"You're ruining my sleep."

"What?! One minute you're holding me in your arms like I'm your child and now you tell me I'm ruining your sleep?!"

Stan had to be tough. "I was only holding you to make you stop crying!"

"Is that what you do to comfort someone? You simply put on an act to make it seem like you actually care?!"

No answer.

"Well, believe it or not," I continued. "A simple act is not enough to make someone feel better. Holding someone is comforting, that's true, but there's more than that. Is that all you think there is to it?"

"Listen," Stan said getting up. "I don't know if this is about what happened earlier today, but... I don't know if I'm ready."

"Ready? ... You've got so many reasons for not being with someone, but Stan, you haven't got one good reason for being alone."

"Well, here's another! I've been hurt by rejections. Do you think me and Wendy was just a little test run to see how relationships went? You know how many times Wendy and I have been off and on again."

"I know..."

"I just need more time. What you said was a lot for me to take in, Kyle, shit!"

"Can't you think of a good reason for being with me?"

"What?"

"And I know you have, Stan! Keep thinking. You're on to something, Stan, you're on to something. You of all people know that I need you too much for my own good. I see what I look for, you know. I'm looking for someone who will love me as much as I love them!"

"Kyle, this isn't some after school special where the guy and girl fall in love. You need to grow up and realize how the real world works. You're not a kid anymore, Kyle. I don't think you'll ever be a kid again, kiddo."

"You're afraid, aren't you?!"

Stan rolled over and looked away from me.

"Look, I know Wendy has hurt you," I said crawling up to him, putting a hand on his arm. "I know you don't want to get hurt anymore. But you know what, Stan? Relationships can hurt, and not every one is an utter dream. Hey, buddy, don't be afraid it won't be perfect. The only thing to be afraid, really, is that that it won't be. That's what _I'm_ afraid of."

I paused... I had no more to say. Stan turned around and looked into my eyes. I saw hope.

"Don't stop now," he said as softly as I had ever heard him speak. "Keep going."

"You're finally gonna let me in?" I chuckled as tears swelled up in my eyes.

"You're someone I have to let in, Kyle," Stan replied with tears appearing as well.

"I've never been in a full relationship before, I know, but I'm willing to give it a shot. What does all that mean? To be hurt like how you were hurt by Wendy?"

"You'll never understand unless you've had experiences," Stan said. "How do you know so much about it when you've never been there?"

"I'm willing to with _you_ if you are. It's much better living it than looking at it."

"Oh, God, Kyle. There are hundreds of things that prove I'm an idiot to not see that we deserve each other."

"Add 'em up, Stan," I said with full tears flowing down my face and laughing. "Add 'em up."

Then I fell on top of Stan and pushed my lips onto his. He accepted it and embraced me. Our bodies where now one as I began to tear off his shirt and he ripped off my jeans. We didn't care that we had no coverage from any blankets or anything like that. Just as long I was a part of Stan and that he finally accepted my love and I finally received his. This moment was golden. There wasn't anything to ruin it, and nothing did. Our tongues explored each others' mouth as our souls twisted into this glorious spirit that now thrived through all of us. We now knew that we were meant to be together and no earthly forces could ever tear us apart. I knew at that very moment that Stan was the very person who would crowd me with love.

Someone to force me to care.

Someone to make me come through and will always be there for me, and who will be frightened as I was for being alive.

I didn't care if I were alive or dead or anything in between, just as long as I was what I was with the love of my life Stan Marsh.


	3. A Hidden Weakness & Elizabeth Browning

**Chapter 3 - A Hidden Weakness & Elizabeth Barrett Browning**

The next morning, I had no idea where my head was at. I got up and almost completely forgot what the hell I had just done, but I didn't, and when I remembered, all I felt was this enormous smile creep along my face as I still tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I reached over to my left and reapplied my jeans. After I had tightened my green and orange square studded belt, I looked to my right expecting to find Sleeping Beauty, but to my surprise, he wasn't there. I was going to kiss him on the cheek but he hadn't woken up with me. Where did he go? I crept over to the bush where we had our episode earlier to see if he was there; I heard russtling. I poked my head through the brush and found him sitting in front of the water with his bare toes lightly dancing in the lakes morning waters. I smiled at this. Such things like this are what originally turned me on. The utter simplicity of happiness this boy desired made me know that if we were to have a life together, then just the knowledge of our togetherness would be the ultimate gift for him in the world. He too had only jeans on and let the brisk morning chill caress his chest and neck. He closed his eyes and basked in natures bliss.

I didn't want to break this form of meditation, so I tip-toed in as quietly as I could, but not to scare him. When my foot touched the dry dirt, he was aware of my presense. He smiled. I could tell because I saw the outline of his rising cheeks from behind. I sat next to him and pulled my knees up to my chest.

"How did you sleep?" I asked, not too morningly just so the beautiful silence would not be easily destroyed so quickly.

"Very well, under the circumstances," he replied with a humble sigh.

The wind was cool, yes, but the sun was warm. Exactly how it was when I had walked to Stan's house yesterday. Oh my God. It's already been not even 24 hours and I've already went from liking my super best friend, to having the best sex of my life with him. It just comes to show that you can do anything in the course of a day. If me and Stan were officially together, Jehovah knows what we could accomplish.

The sun was speaking to me. It told me to enhance the already tender moment. I leaned my head against his bare shoulder. This moment was utterly perfect. Stan knew it. I knew it. He placed his arm around me and squeezed me affectionately and he leaned his head on the top of mine.

"Last night was wonderful, Stan," I said silently.

He looked down at me for a moment and continued to gaze into the rising sun. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" he agreed.

"Stan?" I asked after a long tender silence.

"Mmm?"

"Hold me closer."

With his left arm already around me, he hooked his hands together so that both his arms were around me. Naturally, I knew this was an awkward position for him to undertake in order for a moment to be song long and lovely. I ducked my head out of his arms and sat myself between his legs. Stan enjoyed this much better. Stan was my throne. He was mine. No one would ever seperate us. I held onto the back of his neck softly with one hand as Stan gently placed his hands on my stomach. I reclined almost ready to fall asleep again and Stan nuzzled his face into my shoulder, biting, kissing, and sucking my neck. I closed my eyes and moaned in pleasure. If there was one thing Stan knew how to do it was to pleasure me. He was totally new at pleasuring a man, but whatever gave him the feeling that this would work on me so well, thank God for it because I had no intention on this to stop. I wanted to lay here forever.

"You're practically in your birthday suit," I commented. Stan smiled, but continued his mouth work. " All we need is to get rid of those jeans. And it'd be so appropriate today too."

"How would me being in my birthday suit be so appropriate today?" he had asked then continued to move his love down to my shoulder.

I sat up for a moment and looked at him like he was crazy.

"Are you joking?" I asked skeptically.

"Uhh, no?"

"You of all people forgot your own freaking birthday!"

"My what?!"

"It's your birthday, you idiot! You're 15, now," I laughed playfully smacking his chest.

"Is it? ... Hold on, let me..." Stan trailed off beginning to think.

Stan was also irresistably cute when he began to think. He would focus his blue eyes to the sky as if to find the answer there without changing the angle of his head and his lips would form the cutest shape of an 'O.' Occasionally, his eyebrows would cock back and forth. The eyebrow thing for Stan was like the gears of a clock. But it wasn't so frequent. His eyes finally met mine and he smiled from ear to ear. He blushed and felt like a complete idiot. He _had_ forgotten his own damn birthday!

"Oh, crap!" he laughed, placing his hand over his face im embarassment.

"I can't believe you forgot your own birthday, you little retard," I laughed.

"Shut up," he chuckled back.

"Well, you were just the dumbest guy on earth for a second."

"Shut up, ginger-boy!" Stan laughed.

Oh, God, no. He did _not_ just call me ginger-boy. Stan, of course, stopped laughing immediately as soon as he heard the words come out of his lips. Stan knew how much I hated being called a ginger-boy. I suppose in his defense it was all in good fun considering I called him a little retard followed by the dumbest guy on earth, but GODAMMIT he _knows_ how much ginger-boy reminds me of Fatass! Everytime I hear it his fat little face flies through my mind. I'm always picturing him squinting his eyes and laughing his ass off, like the first time he saw my Jewfrow. Thank God for that straightener! But still! No matter how different my hair was and no matter how different I look from the average ginger, it still fucks me in the head and pisses me off!

I glared Stan right in the eye and he knew what he did. His mouth hung open and his eyes searched for a proper apology. I scrunched my lips and widened my eyes.

"Kyle, I..."

I could tell he was trying not to smile. He was going to say how much he didn't mean it to offend me. Oh, I know he wouldn't offend me, Stan wouldn't do anything of the sort, but he could have picked any other word that stayed miles away from ginger or Jew.

I stood up and shook my feet really fast to get the water drops off my toes and walked into the bushes and back to the leaf bed by the tree.

"Kyle, come on!" Stan was smiling, I just knew it.

Amazing. Our first night sleeping together and we're already married with the first "does this dress make me look fat?" answer. And I was playing the bitchy on-her-period female who can't take a joke. Of course, I hated this role with a passion, but I naturally took it and there was no way that what Stan said could be taken back.

I sat myself down on the bed with my arms crossed and looked at the tree, away from those puppy eyes that I knew Stan was gonna pop on me sometime soon. I HATED those sexy eyes!! GODAMMIT!!

Stan crawled through the bush on all fours and, to my fortelling, began to lightly whimper like a scolded puppy. He crawled right up to me and rubbed his acne-free face along my chest; a dog's way in asking for forgiveness, I presume. I never owned a dog. I probably never will. But if I did, God knows I'd name him Stan.

"Go away, Stan," I said, trying my God damned hardest not to show a sign of weakness by showing even the littlest smile. "You made a really dumb move, and you know it."

"Can't you give me a small smile?" Stan asked cutely shaking him bum as if it were his little tail.

"You did the puppy on me, Stan. And even you know that if the puppy doesn't work, nothing does."

"Are you joking?" Stan asked me, mocking the way I had said it earlier. "I have the power to make you smile."

"Honest to God, Stan Marsh," I began. "You must have some nerve to go off calling me a ginger kid and then just expect me to be all forgiving and everything. If you think it's gonna be that easy, you got another thing comi..."

My speech was cut short almost instantly. I couldn't speak anymore due to the explosive sensation of Stan scratching the soles of my feet. I immidiately fell on my back and began to laugh uncontrollably. Stan was one of the only people on earth who knew where I was deathly ticklish. There was him and Kenny. They've double teamed me a couple times at sleep overs. Of course, like any sane person, I hated it so much, but it was playful. A part of me wanted him to keep going but that was 5. The remaining 95 of me said "Get the fuck off of me! You know how ticklish I am! Holy fuck!"

He finally stopped and leaned in to my face.

"How about we get the birthday boy a cake?" he suggested after a small peck on my nose.

"Where are we gonna find a cake here?" I asked, still giggling, catching my breath.

"We'll improvise."

* * *

We applied the rest of our clothing and decided to really get dirty! Stan and I both knew very well that we couldn't get a real cake. But, as I said before, Stan was into simplicity and the meaning behind everything and what it really meant from the heart. We each got on our knees by the beach (that's the small strip of dirt by the lake on the other side of the brush. That's our new name for it now). Stan would shovel in water and I would scrape the dirt and make mud. Just another day with me and my super best friend Stan doing something absolutely pointless. But every minute or so, while he dragged in water and I shoveled in mud, our dirty hands would touch. I would smile at him mentally and so would he. We each knew. Minute by minute I kept getting the feeling that our super best friendship had evolved into something warm and meaingful and intimate. We each new that because, well, he had sex! But the thing was, despite how much we new we loved each other, we needed to say it and get our feet on some solid ground so we could find out what to do next. Can two friends make out one night and have awesome sex and _still_ be friends? Was that still possible? We were each thinking the exact same thing, but neither of us would bring it up just yet.

* * *

After about a half hour of 'hard work', the day's sun hardened the mud fast and Stan had his own special mud cake! Stan reached into his pocket and grabbed a match. He lit it and placed it into the center were it was still a bit moist. Stan did smoke, on occassions, but only as a stress reliever. You wouldn't see him smoke much, because I would do my best to keep him happy. He might finish a whole pack over the course of 2 months. Still, one cig was too many, you know?

The small match burned and would only stay lit for about another 30 seconds. We stayed on our knees. He leaned in.

"I loves my chocolate," he said like a Southern belle licking his lips.

I couldn't help but laugh. Stan was the funniest guy I knew. To me, he was funnier than Dane Cook, John Pinette, and Jeff Dunham combined. His jokes really brought out the youth in him. The youth from all those years back in elementary school. I still had my Stan. Old and new. I leaned in staring into his crystal eyes.

"Blow out the candles, Stan, and make a wish," I said, slightly jokingly, but then meaningfully. "_Want_ something... Want _something_..."

Stan returned the affectionate stare into my golden green eyes. He was about to say something sweet, I just knew it. He always started something heart-felt with the eyes. Me too. It was our thing.

"I want..." he began. "I want a brand new mountain bike, a new iPod, my own cell phone..."

Stan continued his list like he used to when he sat on Santa's lap at the mall. He would always wish a little something for me too because he told Santa I don't celebrate Christmas. He was a real sweetie even back then. But as he began his list of materials, my heart slowly sank and my eyes drifted from his and sunk into the mud.

"... and something else." He said this with silent passion. This got my attention. I looked straight at him.

"I want..." he started. "Someone... Someone to hold me too close... Someone to hurt me too deep... To sit in my chair... to ruin my sleep... and... make me feel alive... to make me _love_ being alive."

I absolutely melted at this. I thought that was the end of his little wish list, but it kept on going.

"Someone to need me too much, to know me too well, to pull me up short, and to give me support and put me through hell. Someone to make me confused, mock me with praise, let me be used, to crowd me with love, to vary my days... Someone to force me to care, and will always be there, to make me come through, and to be frightened. Frightened as you of being alive."

I nearly had tears in my eyes. I looked at the match. It was almost out. Stan blew it out right away and looked right at me.

"You shouldn't have said that," I said.

"But I meant it."

"I know... But you told me... Now it won't come true."

"I don't need all that to come true... I already have it all right in front of me."

Stan leaned in more and pressed his soft moist lips against mine. I had always been known as the more sensitive one of the two of us. We'd often get compared to a husband and wife, me being the wife, on more than one ocassion. Today, I realized that we were now both equal in levels of sensitivities. Of course, now whenever I will feel the need to embarass him, I can bring up his little love speech. He would blush right away. Then he'd probably tickle me again to make me shut up, so I think it's best for me to stay away from it for a while.

But at this moment, I didn't give a damn what the world thought about us because when Stan and I kiss, it's only us in the world. Our parents, siblings, relatives, and other friends all vanish into thin air and it's only us and our lips and tounges telling each other we loved each other through the art of feeling and motion. And truth be told, I would never have it any other way.

* * *

If there was one thing I loved, it was poetry. Sweet romantic poetry. Stan, of course, being the '_man_ of the marriage,' was poetically declined. As the sun began to go down hours later, we found ourselves in the same position before. I was between his legs, he was holding my stomach, wearing only our jeans. As if I thought the moment couldn't get any more perfect, I began to recite the love poem I chose for academic English last year.

"**First time he kissed me, he but only kissed  
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;  
And ever since, it grew more clean and white,  
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its 'Oh, list,'  
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst  
I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,  
Than that first kiss. The second passed in height  
The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,  
Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed!  
That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,  
With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.  
The third upon my lips was folded down  
In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,  
I have been proud and said, 'My love, my own.'**"

"What was that?" Stan asked.

"'First Time He Kissed Me, He But Only Kissed' by Elizabeth Barrett Browning," I replied closing my eyes and letting my body become completely swallowed by the warmth of the sun.

"I could never memorize something like that."

"Damn straight," I kidded kissing his lips quickly but fully.

We continued to gaze into the sun. No words needed be said. Somehow the presense of one another as we held each other in our arms was all that needed _to_ be said. Words of silence, yet so much speech.

"Today couldn't have been more perfect, Kyle," he had hummed. "You know that, right?"

"Do I ever," I sighed with a peaceful smile. "I never want this moment to end, Stan."

"Neither do I."

More silence.

"... Stan?"

"Mmm?"

"What happened yesterday..."

"Yes?"

"... and today..."

"U huh?"

"Does... Does that mean... Does it that... you know... w-we? ..."

"Oh, God..."

I stood on my knees, looking at him face-to-face.

"Stan," I said sternly, but not loudly. "We _have_ to talk about this."

"Ugh... Now?"

"Yes! It's been on my mind as much as it's been on yours."

"I know, but..."

"Stan..."

"... What?"

"I think it's safe to say that since we've made out more than once _and_ we've had sex, that we're past the super best friend zone. Don't you agree?"

"... Yeah..."

"... So..."

"Do you think we should-"

"Should what?!" I was waiting for him to ask me out. We had to tie the knot now. There was too much tention.

"Well... Maybe since we've... _done_ it... That... It means something."

"It _does_ mean something, Stan! I'm ready if you are."

"Well, _I'm_ ready if _you_ are."

"So if we're both ready, then..."

"... Then... Yeah..."

Another silence. But this time not so much as tender and peaceful. It was agrovating.

"So..." Stan began. I looked straight at him. "Does this mean we're... you know... _together_?"

"If you want to be..."

"I do."

"... I do too." We each had these enormous smiles on our faces.

"Then... It's settled."

"Yeah."

We remained in our postions. I decided that it would be better if I laid back in him as he was my throne like before. I did. I got myself comfortable and snuggled. Stan looked down at me and smiled. He loved it when I was all cute-like. Not like the puppy _he_ was, which I could never pull off, but a widdle teddy bear. A teddy bear with glasses.

"You know," I said with my eyes still shut, ready to fall asleep.

"Yeah?" Stan asked.

"We're gonna have our parents we're a couple."

And with that, Stan widened his eyes and threw his head back...

"Aww, FUCK!!"


	4. To Fuck an Ear

**NOTE: Wow! I mean, holy crap, you guys! I hadn't realized that 'Being Alive' would be so damn popular... Well, I don't know how many hits you need to be popular, but this story gained over to 500 more hits in the course of 5 days. You have no idea how good you're making me feel! Thanks a lot! Don't stop commenting! I know you want to! Give me your honest opinion (only if it isn't bad lol). Well, here we go. Next chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - To Fuck an Ear**

I was amazingly startled at Stan's fiery outburst. What the hell came over him?! I jumped at his shout to the sky, scurrying away from between his knees to a few feet away from him. I hated it when he was angry. It made me feel useless. I didn't like it when I felt like I couldn't do anything to make him feel better. He lowered his head and breathed heavily; I saw the loose dust spread away every time he ex-hailed. I waited for him to cool off a bit, but he didn't seem to do that. I crawled over to him, but slowly, thinking he might backhand me or something. I know Stan would never do that, but I felt scared when he was angry. My personal weather is based around Stan's emotions. Right now, for me, my world was dark and cloudy with fierce lighting and thunder. I hated that.

"Stan?" I asked. "Hun? ... What's wrong?"

Stan turned his head to me at quick speed and glared at me. I didn't like this either.

"What do you think?!" he snapped. "I can't tell my parents! They'd never swallow it!"

I know this wasn't the time for jokes, but as soon as Stan said the word 'swallow', I began to giggle.

"Shut up!" Stan ordered. He wasn't angry anymore, but it sounded like he was pleading. As if the action of Stan telling his parents relied on me. "Kyle, you don't understand! Before you came over, yesterday, I was straight as a pencil! Now in the course of one day, my life has been completely flipped upside down! It would be difficult to tell them I'm gay in the first place, but to tell them I have a boyfriend too?! Do you know how long it would take my dad to recover from me being out? He'd go into one of those 'comas' and sit in a wheelchair and shave his head! My dad takes things way out of proportion, you gotta listen!"

"Okay, okay, okay, chill!" I didn't want Stan to become any more frustrated with himself then he already was. "I... I honestly don't know what to tell you, Stan. You'll _have_ to tell eventually."

"But why?!"

"Okay, hold on here." I put my hands together, put my chin onto my extended thumbs and my index fingers under my nose with a face of deep thought. "So... If not now... when?"

"Well, I... I-I, uhh..."

"What if we get married one day, Stan?! Are you gonna confess that you're gay, have a boyfriend _and_ a fiancé on the wedding invitation?!"

"Well, now that you mention it..."

"Oh, for the love of God, Stan!" I thundered rising to my feet. "You are the toughest guy I know! You're not gonna let something as little as this make you cower into the corner like a hurt kitten! I won't have it! We're getting out of here. Our parents are frantic and looking for us. We'll get out of the damned forest and we'll go to your house together. If you want, _I'll_ even say it to them. I have no problem in exhibiting our passion for one another!"

"How can you be so relaxed with yourself? Do you know how many redneck homophobes out there would want you dead?!"

"I'm aware, Stan! But now I'm not afraid to die!" I knelt to him and stroked his face. "... Not with the knowledge that we've expressed our feelings in a way we never thought possible."

"But... Kyle..." Stan to tear. "I'm scared. I'm just... so scared."

"Don't be," I said. "There isn't a reason for you to be afraid. Come on. Give me the worst thing that could happen to you?"

"... My dad could murder me with a rusty kitchen knife."

"... _Second_ worst thing, then."

"He could disown me."

"You can live with me!"

"What if they don't take me?"

"I'll sneak you in!"

"But they'll disown you too."

"We'll grab supplies and go back to the forest! So many memories we have now, Stan!"

"What would we do?!"

"We'd build a house!"

"How?"

"We'll grab your Uncle Jimbo's supplies. We can cut down a couple trees. We can build a nice little house. Get jobs, afford paint and carpet and shit! You know!"

"Dude, that all sounds like a bunch of bull shit! We could never pull that off."

"I know we couldn't! We're not gonna have to resort to that crap because your parents aren't going to disown you!"

"But what if they do?"

"You can live with me."

"What if they don't take me?"

"I'll sneak you i... Stop it!"

"Sorry," he chuckled a bit, then returning to his melancholy state.

"What is it going to take for you to tell your parents, Stan?" I asked rubbing his arm.

"... I dunno. It's just that my parents have always thought I was straight. They'll just be..." He scoffed at himself for being so womanish. "I just have no idea how they'll react."

"Neither do I," I chuckled. "But they won't disown you!"

I crawled closer to him and I nuzzled my face against his bare chest. It was so soft, so smooth. I could live forever inside Stan's chest. A place of warmth and comfort.

"Please," I pleaded cutely running my finger up and down his abs. "Can't you do this one thing for me?"

Stan looked down at me and I looked back at him. He cocked his head with appriciation to how cute I was trying to be. He giggled. Not because I was so cute, but because he knew I couldn't pull off the cute streak as much as he could. We both knew that. He finally collapsed on his back and spread his arms out like an eagle with a sigh of defeat.

"Fine..." he said finally.

"You know you're the best," I reminded him laying on top of him.

"I know," he said smiling.

I kissed his chest and continued to rest my head. I was so happy that Stan was so understanding. At times, he was. I mean, sometimes it was like talking to a brick wall with this guy! A very hot brick wall, might I add.

Sometimes, just to annoy me, he would ignore me when I was trying to get his attention. I would play angry for a bit, because that was one of the things he liked to do. Then finally, I would get sick of being ignored, and _demand_ some attention! He would keep this up until I reached the point of swearing, or slamming a door shut. _Then_ he would run after me laughing and apologizing. I loved him when he was cute, he loved _me_ when I was angry. He said that when I got angry, my freckles could be easily spotted out. He loves my freckles. It drives him crazy. This one time we were _really_flirty, but we decided just to be playful, no sex. I would hold his hands down and I would rub my nose against his. My nose was where the majority of my freckles were. He loved it so much, it sent shivering sensations all over his body, and he would just start laughing. We each had our little games to turn each other on. It was fun. Sometimes, he would steal my hat and run with it. He would only do this on days I hadn't fixed my hair yet so it was still fro-ish. I hated my Jewfro, as I have stated earlier. Whenever I didn't have time to gussy up after a shower, I would put a hat on, and Stan would snatch it and run off with it. This would last about 6-10 minutes of running and shouting and panting and laughing. There was this other one where I would take a cigarette from Stan's cig pack and pop it in my mouth and prance around with it saying shit like "Look at me, I'm a smoker! La, la-la, la-la! I'm gonna die! Puff, puff, puff!" and Stan would try to get his cig back saying shit like "Don't actually light that, it's a terrible habit! I don't wanna get you hooked!"

Technically, Stan wasn't 'hooked' on cigarettes. It wasn't an addiction, he's stated that many times. It's kind of like drinking. He isn't addicted to it either, but when he's stressed, he has a little bit of both. He doesn't have a problem, and he keeps it all well in control.

I remained on his chest, rubbing his smooth body, thinking of everything that we've done and everything that we'll plan to do for our future. I could honestly see myself with this boy for the rest of my natural life, and even the thought of _that_ sent shivers up an down my spine.

"When did you want to leave?" I asked, trying not to sound too pushy.

"Whenever you feel like it."

"Really?" I asked raising my head, looking at him.

"Well, you're right, Kyle," Stan began sitting up. "I can't live the rest of my life being afraid of something as little as this. If my parents don't like it, well... fuck them! Fuck them right in the ear!"

"There you go!" I cheered clapping happily.

I leaped on top of Stan embracing his neck with my arms. We fell on the cold dirt and I was still hugging him. I never wanted to let go. He was my little pillow. My pillow with an amazing ass!

* * *

Stan was dusting off the chain on his bike. There were so many God damned spider webs. It took him a while. He didn't mind the webs, really. What went on through his mind was how his parents would react to his homosexuality and his intimate relationship with me. His mind was filled with too much "How could you Stanley?" and "Get out of my house!" that he didn't feel the crawling sensation of a spider creeping up his hand. Once it had gotten to his shoulder, Stan brushed it off with a small gasp. He let go of his bike, still on his knees, and leaned his head against the tree with a 'thump'. Stan ignored the pain and tried to center himself and erase the horrible possibilities. He couldn't. Too many images of his mother crying and his father turning away from him to fetch the shaver and the wheelchair flooded his mind.

_"This won't turn out well," _he thought.

I crept up behind him as he was in meditation, but I didn't know he was at the time. I was going to place my four fingers at the base of his spine and crawl up to his shoulder like a scorpion. We do it to each other all the time. This is probably one of the only 'mini-pranks' he pulls on me that I _don't_get pissed off most of the time. I crawled closer to him and, once again, snapped a twig. My eyes widened and I glanced at Stan to see if he had noticed. He hadn't. I knelt behind him. My fingers shot up his back. And with a loud scream, Stan whipped around and backhanded my face. I was knocked on my back with the typical in-pain scream. As soon as Stan had realized what he had done, he quickly came to my aid. Most of the time if I get offended, Stan will quickly recover, but will still smile, thinking of it as a joke. He wasn't smiling this time.

"Dude!" Stan said frantically kneeling to my side. "Oh my God, dude, I'm so freaking sorry!"

"What the fuck, man?!" I blurted, not giving a shit about how he would take my words. "You don't just wack people in the fucking face! What the fuck's your problem, asshole?!"

"I thought you were a spider!" he said not knowing at ALL what to do.

"A spider?! A fucking _spider_?!"

"Well, ya, dude, you crawled up my back!"

"Oh, fuck you, Stan!" I hollered. "Fuck you right in the ear!"

I was still holding my nose in deep pain, and Stan was looking at the twig I snapped. I had finally gotten to him with my words. Normally I could never get to his core no matter how many words in the fucking dictionary I used. But this time, I did. And I finally realized it, and I felt strange. I felt as if I had won the battle, but the grape juice of victory had spoiled and turned to wine. GROSS!! I hate wine! Now I know how my mom must have felt after she had realized the damage she had caused when she decided to declare war on Canada. It's a long story...

No matter how sour the grape juice was, it was the grape juice I had wanted to taste for a long time. But at what cost? The feelings of Stan, my super best frie... Errr... _Boyfriend??_ My God! Just saying 'Stan' and 'boyfriend' in the same sentence made my back quiver in a way I would have never thought. Stan noticed it but didn't want to say anything, afraid that I might snap back and tell him to mind his own business or tell him to fuck more ears.

I turned away feeling bad. At that same time, Stan turned to me.

"How's your nose?" he asked softly.

"Huh?" I replied turning my head to him.

"Your nose... How is it?"

It was bleeding. I just knew it was. I didn't want to check because I knew the palms of my hands would be painted a black-cherry oozy substance. I didn't want to see, but I knew I had to, and I did. And little to my surprise, came a downpour of thick red goop. Stan screamed at the sight. If there was one thing Stan was more than sexy, it was squeamish. He hated, no, _utterly feared_the sight of blood. I began to panic, but not in a Butters panic. I almost was hopping on my butt and waving my one hand while the other one merely cupped the blood only allowing it to cascade from the original destination, the ground, to my green sweater. Stan began to panic too, only he was because of the fact that there was blood, I was panicking because the deep red goop was setting in my bright green sweater. I hate it when my "Bluenotes'" gets stains.

"Aww!" I said pissed off, standing up. I began to look for something like a paper towel, but I knew there wasn't.

I gave up and pinched the bridge of my nose. My mom said that if you ever got a nosebleed, you have to pinch the bridge of your nose to stop the bleeding. You also have to apply something cold to the back of your neck. Perhaps I could use Stan's heart! I don't care if he thought I was a spider, that hurt like a mother fucker!

"Is there anything I can do?" Stan asked trying to hold back his chunks.

"No, you asshole, you can't do anything!" I snapped, pacing. I was angry again.

"... Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.

"Look, if you don't wanna make me any angrier, you can take me the fuck home!"

"Alright fine," he answered softly, picking up his bicycle.

* * *

During the walk, well... That's all it was: a walk. Stan walked while holding the bars of his bike and I walked along side with him, without looking at his stupid face! The blood had stopped flowing, but I couldn't get it's rusty-steel taste out of my mouth. My arms were crossed as I looked down at the set-in brown stain in my favorite shirt. I scoffed as the image of Stan lighting my mind and looked ahead in frustrated anger.

"Look, I'm really sorry, Kyle," he had finally said. "I didn't mean to hurt you, you... You just scared me, that's all."

I remained silent.

"I guess I deserved... No, I _did_ deserve what you said. _All_ of it! Every single word!"

I looked at him with my peripherals.

"And I'm willing to do anything to make you feel better." He leaned in. "I mean it, Kyle."

I finally look back at him expecting the Puppy. But when I did, I didn't see anything of the sort. All I saw was Stan. Pure Stan. Honesty and truth in his eyes. This was all I needed. I had been waiting for an honest look from Stan for such a long time. I smiled a bit.

"I don't think it's broken," I replied.

"It might as well be," Stan said looking at his red Converse All Stars. "I feel terrible."

"You don't have to," I said placing my hand on his shoulder.

Stan didn't mind that my hand was covered with dried blood. Just as long as I was showing him some sort of affection, he was smiling like a retard.

"God, you look stupid," I commented jokingly with a smile.

"Oh, ya?" Stan asked suspiciously wearing a smile as well. "Well, fuck you."

He held the side of my head to his mouth. "Fuck you right in the ear," he said with a chuckle.

Stan slid his tongue into my ear. I let out squeals and fits of laughter. I was totally disgusted with the slimy feeling in my ear, but it was so funny, I didn't know how to react except wiggle in disgust and laugh my ass off. I feel to the ground finally escaping the wetness still chuckling. Stan looked at me dead in the eye with lust. He slowly got on top of me and kissed my lips passionately as he began to pull up my sweater over my head.

* * *

Hours later, Stan and I had reached the road with the same bike tracks that Stan had left. I found out that the bike I had used was tossed to the side of the road and the car I had smashed into had driven away. The glass that had been shattered was still there. I walked up to the bike and picked it up.

"You ready?" I asked.

Stan was already on his bike beginning to pedal. "Yup."

I hopped on the bike and began to pedal a few feet ahead of him, but not for long. He quickly caught up and began to pedal beside me.

"Dude," he said, having to raise his voice. "I still taste your blood."

"Shut up!" I laughed.

* * *

We had finally reached the large wooden sign stuck in the earth that Stan and I were both familiar with: "South Park," it read. We had finally reached our home town. All over buildings and lamp posts and bulletin boards were pictures of Stan and I with letters above our head in black bold **"MISSING"**. That one word had struck our chests like flaming spears and we stopped in our tracks both staring directly at our innocent smiling faces in black and white. We looked at each other and back at ourselves in the picture.

"We were... missing?" Stan asked.

"Oh my God," I said silently, just as shocked as he was.

"What will our parents say?!" Stan asked me, getting a bit excited.

"Ease up, dude, ease up," I said trying to relax him. "Now, most likely they are gonna be a bit scared at first and _maybe_ angry, but it will always end up with happy tears. And if your parent _do_ make a big deal out of... _you know_, then the fact that your home will even it out."

"And your parents?"

"Most likely the same thing," I said in positive confirmation, nodding. "... So... Do you want me to go with you?"

"... No!" Stan said finally, triumphantly. "I have to do this on my own, Kyle! It's just like you said! I can't be afraid of my parents. It's time for me to stand up for my beliefs."

"And..." I said placing my hands on his shoulders. "If it all goes well, we can go up to my bedroom and... 'celebrate'."

"... Again?"

I lightly hit his arm. We shared a chuckle. We continued to pedal down the road.

When we reached Stan's house, the first stop, I squeezed the break with him. Stan walked his bike and mine to the garage. He was about to knock on the door, but I didn't leave. I stayed by the door.

"You can, leave, you know?" Stan reminded me with a small smile.

"I know... I'm going now." I left his premises not looking behind myself, looking into his eyes until he knocked on the door. It was mister Marsh who had answered it.

"Hello?" Mr. Marsh asked in a wheel chair with his head shaved, his voice imitated that of an old withered man on his death bed.

"Aww-_Awwwwww_!" Stan whined pinching the bridge of his nose and closing the door behind himself.

I finally began to run as fast as my little legs could carry me.

I had finally gotten to my house and blasted open the door.

"Mom, dad, Ike! I'm home!"

"Holy shit!" Ike shouted jumping off the couch and hugging me as tight as he could with waterfalls of tears flowing down his cute little face. "Don't you do that to me again, you fucking ass hole!"

I kissed my brother's forehead in comfort and I returned the hug. I looked up and saw my mom and dad in the doorway of the kitchen smiling with tears in their eyes as well. Just the knowledge that I was home was all they needed to know. They returned to the kitchen. I looked down at Ike and he looked up at me with his milk chocolate eyes.

"I'll be right back, okay?" I told him.

He nodded, sniffing and wiping away his tears.

I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the coffee pot to pour myself a cup. I looked at my parents and they were just smiling, but uncomfortably.

"What's wrong?" I asked getting the milk. "I thought you would be angry."

"Well, to tell the truth," my dad said. "We were. We were going to ground you for a couple of weeks."

"Then why didn't you?" I asked placing the milk on the counter.

"Because of Ike," answered my mom. "He begged us not to punish you because he wanted to have some fun with you all of today. He missed you a lot."

"Yeah," I said softly, looking out into the living room, seeing Ike still wiping away some tears. "Yeah, I know."

I grabbed the sugar and made my coffee the way I liked it. I sat with my parents at the table.

"Mom," I said, staring into the deep caramel-coloured liquid inside my mug. "Dad... I have to tell you something."

"What is it, bubbi?" mom asked leaning in. Dad as well.

"Yes, what is it Kyle?" Dad asked.

"While I was gone... I recently discovered some... how should I put this... _feelings_ for Stan."

"Oh, God," mom said with her face in her hand. "I knew this was coming, Gerald."

"I'm sorry!" I apologized. "But we're together now! We can't help ourselves! You can't sit there and say you've never noticed _anything_ that led to this between us over the course of 10 years."

Mom and dad looked at each other. It was true. The both of them, _and_ mister and missus Marsh had all noticed that the bond between Stan and I had grown over time. They just didn't want to say anything. In the past they decided to just let it blow by since they were just boys. Mister Marsh always called our relationship 'funny.'

"Yeah, we know, Kyle," dad said finally. "And... well... we know we can't do anything to stop you. N-not that we _do_!"

"Oh, no!" mom added. "We, we just... Well, I suppose we're happy for the two of you."

"Really?!" I asked.

"Yes, son," dad continued. "We've noticed your connection, and holding our breath and waiting for one of you two to say something was such a long time. At first we didn't think you two had anything. But now we see and... And that's that."

"Thanks, dad!"

I ran as fast as I could out the door. I was almost out when I heard my brother call me.

"Kyle!" he said. "Where are you going?!"

"I'll be right back, Ike!" I said trying to get out the door. "I promise!"

I closed the door behind my and began to run down the sidewalk all the way to Stan's house. After I saw his house in the distance, I saw a figure walk out of the door and onto the sidewalk in my direction. I ran faster; it was Stan. I finally reached him.

"Stan!" I exclaimed. "You won't believe it! My parents are okay with it! Now come on, let's go to my house and..."

I stopped speaking immediately when I saw Stan holding his suitcase with a tear on his chin and a slap mark on his face.


	5. In Our Dimension

**Chapter 5: In Our Dimension**

"Stan, what the fuck?!" I had shouted.

I honestly had no idea that any of what Stan had told me about possible disowning. Stan had tears flowing down his cheeks and onto his brown leather case that he held weakly in his left hand.

"What did you do?!" I was beginning to sound like it was his fault, but it wasn't.

"I..." Stan sniffed, his sapphire eyes filling with tears. "I just told them, and then they told me to get out." Stan began to bawl. "And then... Th-they gave me 10 minutes to back as much as I could. And then on the way out, my mom slapped me... Sometimes I think that being alive just isn't worth it!"

Stan fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands, his tears seeping through his fingers. I quickly knelt to his level and held him as tight as I could, placing his flustered face on my shoulder. I began to rub his back and allowed his tears of sadness to soak my shirt.

"It's okay, hun, it's okay," I said in a motherly tone. "What did we say was going to happen?"

"You said this _wasn't_ going to happen," Stan replied lifting his head to look into my eyes.

"No, I mean what did we say was going to happen after you got kicked out?"

Stan's eyes drifted to the floor, trying to think of the correct response. Once he had figured it out his face was overwhelmed with joy, but almost as if it was too good to be true.

"But I thought you were joking, Kyle."

"Hey," I told him taking a hold of his chin with my thumb and finger. "I don't joke around when it comes to you. You're my super best friend and then some and I would risk my fucking life for you. We've done this sort of thing for each other for as long as I can remember, and I'm not going to let anything change that."

"Goddamit, Kyle, I love you so much!" Stan wrapped his arms around my waist.

The words 'I love you so much' sent me into a blissful ecstasy. Of course, I knew he didn't truly mean that he loved me, but anyone would say that after they have been kicked out of their home. But, just for that day, I imagined that those words meant what I wanted them to mean. His sobs continued as he held me, unable to believe my generosity and compassion. He didn't care how gay he looked in front of anyone, all that mattered was that he was with me.

I stood up and pulled him with me by his arms gently. I leaned my forehead against his and spoke softly.

"How about we get you cleaned up?" I smiled.

Stan smiled back as I wiped away his tears with my thumbs. He quietly nodded his head and I kissed him tenderly on the lips, still trembling from his recent experience. I tucked my arm under his and looped around his back to hold the other side of his waist. He rested his head on my shoulder as we began to walk to my house.

Ike was sitting on the couch, his feet barely reaching the floor. He looked at the clock above the television set and looked at the door once again. This might have been his 5th time.

"It's been, like, 15 minutes!" Ike complained getting frustrated. "Where the hell is he?"

The door had suddenly opened and Ike shot his vision in anticipation at the person entering... the people entering. Ike saw Kyle with his arm around his newly discovered boyfriend. At first Ike thought they were just being gay by holding each other, but it wasn't out of pleasure, it was out of comfort. Ike noticed that Stan didn't look to happy. His eyes a were red. Was Stan crying?

"What's wrong?" Ike asked standing up.

"Stan was disowned," I answered.

"What what WHAT?!" my mom shouted from the kitchen then immediately ran into the living room. Dad followed.

"Is it true?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, it's true," Stan answered with his eyes fixed on the floor. "They didn't take too kindly to the news."

"So they disowned you?!" Mom asked, completely outraged. "This is ludicrous! You _have_ to say with us, Stanley, if you've no other place to stay."

"Holy shit, do you mean it?!" Stan was ready to cry again.

"See dude? I told you," I said to him tussling his hair.

"Of course, it would be no trouble at all," mom confirmed. "You and Kyle can share... um..." Mom looked at dad and they exchanged looks. "Uhh, perhaps you would enjoy the _couch_, Stanley?"

I gave my mom one of those "Did you ever think I _wanted_ to share the room?" looks. I'm not sure if she got it or not because she simply brushed it off.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Broflovski," Stan said putting his hands together. "You don't know how much I appreciate this."

"Uhh, mom," I began, trying to get an important message out. "It would be difficult to drag my dresser downstairs and it would cost a couple hundred dollars for a new one, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose it would," mom replied with curiosity. "Why?"

"Well, Stan here has clothes to put away and they shouldn't just lie on the floor. They should be put in a dresser, don't you think?"

"Oh, well then, he can put them in _your_ dresser."

"Oh, but wait," I said with fake realization. "That would mean he would have to make trips up the stairs just to change and go to sleep, wouldn't he?"

"Alright, Kyle, fine," mom said defeated. "You can share your room with Stan."

"Come on," I said to Stan with a big smile. "Let's put away your clothes."

"Hurry up, Kyle, dinner's almost ready."

"Okay, mom," I said on my way upstairs.

"... No sex!"

"Dammit, mom!!"

* * *

When the final article of clothing, a pair of black boxer briefs, was placed in my top drawer, I turned to Stan who was sitting on the bed.

"Okay, that's the last..."

Stan was bent over with his face in his folded arms on his knees. I walked over to him and sat next to his trembling body where soft sobs were coming from. I began to rub his back again.

"Stan, what's wrong?" I asked. "Is it your parents?"

Stan raised his head to lean it on my shoulder. "I still can't get over it, Kyle. I mean, they were my parents." His cries became thicker. "They were my fucking parents!"

"Shh, it's okay. You're with me now." I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his midnight black hair. "Now, come on, let's get you washed up; you're dirty as sin."

"Speak for yourself," Stan chuckled. I could only laugh as well looking at the blood stain on my sweater.

"Alright, smart ass," I giggled. "I'll take a shower first."

"Well... maybe you don't have to go first."

"Fine, you can go first."

"Maybe... _I_ don't wanna go first."

"OK, you're starting to confuse me. If you're not going first and I'm not going first, then who will? It's not like we're gonna..."

It suddenly hit me. I looked at Stan who had a lustful and, if I say so myself, _naughty_ gleam in his eye.

"Oh, I see," I said winking at him.

I stood up and motioned him with my head to follow me to the bathroom. I walked slowly to the door, and twisted the knob as Stan placed his hands on my waist and began to kiss my neck, just like he did at the Beach. I removed my grip from the door knob just so the oh, so relaxing feeling of the mixture of Stan's velvet-soft lips and a small amount of his saliva would continue to claim property of my neck. I held his hands softly as he continued to praise my soft skin. I moaned, almost in a whisper, like some lost ghost. I groaned deep in my throat as I twisted my neck around so that Stan's lips and tongue should discover unmarked flesh for him to claim. Then the thought that this pleasure could be so much more erotic and memorable if we were, perhaps, naked and engulfed in hot wetness. I reapplied my grip on the door knob and opened the door. My neck escaped his lips as I headed across the hall and into the bathroom. As my body went inside the other room, my head remained, sticking out of the door and stalking Stan with a hunger for his self. I closed the door slowly not removing my sight from his ocean iris. Stan walked out of my room and closed the door behind himself. He twisted the bathroom door knob and walked in.

The first thing he saw was me sitting on the edge of the bath rub with my hand on my knees. I nodded my head once upward, and Stan took it from there. He held the bottom of his shirt and lifted it. I saw Stan's dirty person. His naval, his soft abs, his nipples and his muscular chest. Then there was that bone. As Stan threw his shirt on the bathroom floor and turned on the shower, I continued to look at it in sexual curiosity. It was above the chest and below the neck. If one would run their fingers over it and press them into it, they would state it to be shaped like a 'V.' And since Stan was lightly built, the 'V' was visible. I don't know what the hell they call that piece of bone hidden in his sheet of skin and blood, but I wanted it. It had such a unique shape, and I wanted it to myself. He knelt in front of my and sneaked his tender finger underneath my shirt and began to draw swirls on my chest and stomach. I simply ripped off my shirt, after which Stan reached around and pushed my back in forcing my chest into his mouth which was once again an instrument of his loving passion. I clenched his face with my hands and pulled his eyes to mine. We stared into each others souls for 20 seconds before our lips met in a soft fiery set of fireworks and and golden flares. I stood up and let Stan removes my jeans and boxers, after which Stan did for himself.

Once we were under the realization that we were naked, we embraced and kissed once more as the steam of the hot waters meeting the cold tiles swallowed our bodies in a misty dimension of erotica. A dimension that no one knew about. A sacred keep that was ruled and inhabited by us and us alone where we as one could and would express ourselves that would stretch us to the ends of the earth risking life, tears, sweat, and blood shed. All of this for the knowledge that the other made us complete, and that was all the knowledge we needed. And with this, we felt like the most intelligent people in the world. And we were, but in our dimension.

The showers steaming water held us tightly as we held each other. There was this moment, in the moment of the ecstasy, in the moment of the sex, in the moment of being alive, that the waters were so hot that it felt icy cold on our skin. We didn't care. We were invincible.

* * *

Later that night, both Stan and I had slipped into something more comfortable. I had on an over sized white T-shirt with green flannel pajama pants. Stan had the same pants, only red, with a baby blue muscle shirt, each stitch of cotton hugging his every muscle making him ever more irresistible. I thought he might be cold, seeing that the weather report stated that as early Fall has arrived, it pack a punch. Apparently it was bringing a wind chill and rain. I noticed for a split second that one of Stan's muscle began to shiver. At first I thought it was just because he was still a little shaken from the sex, but then he did it again, accompanied with a shaky inhale and exhale. I quickly reached under the small table next to the couch and pulled out a large blanket. I laid it on us and we cuddled watching what the weather will bring that night. Possible storms. Stan loved storms. Storms with thunder and lightning and loud rain. It helped him sleep better. I leaned against him. I scanned our covered bodies to see if any limbs weren't protected, and to my surprise, all 10 of Stan's toes were sticking out. He wiggled them absent minded-like. Stan looked at me and noticed I saw looking at his toes.

"What are you doing?" he chuckled.

"Wha?" I asked snapping out of my warm daze. "Oh, nothing. I was just looking at your toes for a sec."

"My toes?"

"Yeah, they're cute."

Stan leaned his head against mine. "Not as cute as yours," he played.

"Then _marry them_!" I shouted. I backed myself up on the couch and stuck my feet in his face.

Stan attempted to wrestle his way out of this funny predicament along with hard laughter and little pleas.

"Say I do!" I shouted at him, laughing as well.

Stan grabbed one of my feet and blew a raspberry on the sole. As I began to laugh hard, my mom came in through the kitchen smiling, enjoying our playfulness.

"Boys, it's time to get some rest," she had said, then heading off to bed. "2 minutes."

"Okay, mom," I called back at her recoiling my feet.

"I guess you gotta go to bed," Stan said drawing his toes within the blanket.

"I guess I do," I replied with a sigh, leaning against Stan's knee and hugging his leg.

I kissed his blanketed leg and hopped off the couch. I walked to the stairs and placed my hand on the rail and started to climb up to my bedroom.

"Hey, Kyle," said Stan lightly.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Wanna have a sleep over?"

It was the funny irony he used that made me convince myself. The fact that he now permanently slept at my house and he was inviting _me_to sleep over at his couch made me laugh to myself. I ran to the couch and hopped over the back and into my boyfriend's embrace. He placed his arm around me and held me as tightly as he could, wrapping the blanket around me as well. We both said nothing. And nothing was needed to be said. It was just me and Stan. All alone. All one. In our dimension.


	6. Life is Like a Picture

_**NOTE: I'd like to thank you all for putting your precious time into viewing my fanfics. I honestly was planning to stop 'Being Alive' a few chapter ago, but perhaps I should just keep going until all the knots are tied, like when will Stan or Kyle fall in love and will Sharon and Randy Marsh ever make amends with their newly discovered homosexual son? I suppose this is the final chapter, so I'll twist the title to fit in the with story's moral. But anyway, thanks a lot, you guys! Comment, I know you want to! Read everyword, tell other fanfic'ers about it and tell them to R'n'R. Almost 700 hits! Let's keep goin'! **_

_**Luvs u all to piecez :3) kitty.**_

_**NOTE 2: The reason why this chapter is called 'Life is a Picture' is because whenever I look for South Park anime or chibi, I find these really cool pictures. I don't know how the situations in the pictures come to be, but I like them. A few situations in this chapter you will find may sound like a picture you seen. It's hard to explain, but you'll understand once you read it. If you want to know which pictures I put in, just ask and I'll send you the link.**_

**Chapter 6: Life is a Picture**

The season of Fall fell deeper onto the town of South Park. The trees leaves began to change colour and the manner that people dressed became more appropriate for the weather. And clothes weren't only for the person wearing them, but they were also for the eyes for the beholder. They can't _just_ be comfortable, they must look nothing less than presentable. These type of clothes were for days in the park, days at home, and most importantly, days at school. Yes, that's right. September 29th would be the first day of school. Stan and I were both going into grade 10. And not only that, Randy and Sharon refused to even pay for proper supplies for the new school year, so we purchased Stan's shit on our own. Stan insisted that I he used my old shit from a few years ago, but my mom insisted. Stan's been living with us for a few days, and let me tell you, it's great. He's everything I've ever wanted and everything I'm ever gonna need. We've never been closer, but I'm gonna stay away from calling him my brother or else the sex won't thrill me as much.

We decided to go to the Wall Mart. I hated Wall Mart. I hated it with a burning passion. The reason being that with the whole child labour bull shit and that stuff. But the thing is, despite the fact that I loathe this place for what it does, you can't beat its prices and its wide varieties of school supplies to start off the new year.

"Ya, these things are the best," I explained to Stan holding a Zwipes binder. "You have little folders before the first page and the front of the book folds open. See the velcrow? And you can use that pen to write whatever."

"Ya, that's cool," Stan said nodding his head.

"Kay, so I'll keep looking down for some good colours."

As I began to move down the aisle, Stan spotted the exact people he never wanted to see. His parents. Randy and Sharon were walking with a buggy as Shelley tagged along behind them pointing out pink and black flannel skirts in the Ashlee Simpsons collection. Shelley has been a poser for the majority of her high school career, kidding herself into thinking she's suddenly this punk princess, or some other dumb shit. He also dyed her hair jet black and her eyeliner was a bit heavier. Did she get her head gear removed. I might actually call her pretty if she hadn't gained a little bit of weight. She wasn't fat like Cartman, but her legs were a bit thicker and she grew love handles.

Stan immediately panicked and burried his face into my back clenching onto my khaki jacket.

"What the hell, Stan?" I asked, not angry though.

"Shh!" Stan hushed loudly. "They'll see me!"

"Who will?"

Then I saw them. They seemed to be getting closer. Jesus Christ on ice skates they saw me. I quickly pushed Stan behind one of the thick poles.

"Hello mister and missus Marsh, Shelley," I greeted trying not to be too awkward.

"Hello, Kyle," Sharon greeted as well. "So how are you these days?"

"Oh, you know," I said, which is basically a term for 'nothing,' and the term 'nothing' is a term for 'nothing I want you to know about.' "How are you?"

"Oh, we're just great," Randy chimed in. "But we're a bit concerned."

"Concerned with what?!"

"You didn't happen to see Stan around, did you?"

"We don't know where he's staying," Sharon added. "I mean, frankly, we don't care, but we just need to know if you know if he's staying anywhere."

"He's on the streets like a dirty bum!" Shelley grumbled, much clearer without her braces.

"And I've been missing some of my tools," Randy also added. "So I assume Stan stole them and tried make, like, a house or something."

I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. "How dare you?" I said quickly, but loudly enough.

"Excuse me?" Sharon asked.

"How dare you treat your son that way?!" I shouted. By this time, most of the shoppers were staring at me and the episode I created. "He's your God damned son, for Christ's sake! He's honest and sincere with his feeling towards himself and me and you kick him out of your fucking house?! What the fuck is the matter with you?!"

"Come on, mom," Shelley said cracking her knuckles. "Let me beat him up."

"Shut up, kike!" I snapped. I turned back to the crude adults as Shelley stand horrified. "I don't know why it's such a big deal for Stan! I mean, I came out a while ago and you didn't treat me any differently!"

"Well, that's becuase we already _knew_ you were a faggot," Randy stated quite frankly.

"What the fuck is the matter with you people?!"

I looked to my left and noticed my parents watching. They weren't saying anything because it's exactly what _they_ wanted to say. 2 security officers were beginning to walk towards me. I had to make my point because these asshole parents weren't getting any type of clue. My vision snapped into Stan's eyes. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him out of concealment and forcing his lips onto mine, creating an exhibit of love. As our kiss continued, and Stan began to go with it and started to enjoy the spontanity, Stan and Randy stood there and watched in horror as these two boys made out in front of there very eyes. Shelley had to throw up but didn't know which section to do so. Abercrombie? Aeropostle? Tommy Hilfiger? Ah, Calvin Klein, there we go. _BLLAAAGGGHHH!!_

As I finally released my suction from Stan's soft lips, I glared at his mother and father and held his hand.

"Now, if you'll excuse us," I said wiping my mouth from the saliva. "We have some shopping to do."

But before I could walk away the security guard grabbed my arms and dragged me out of the store. Stan looked at me being dragged away and then back at his parents. He began to join me out of the store, but not before he flipped his parents the 'tall boy.'

We walked into the house with our arms around each other, smiling and talking quietly, kissing each other lightly and stroking each others faces.

"Well, I can't say that I'm mad at you, Kyle," mom admitted placing her bags down on the floor and out of the snow storm. "But for the love of Abraham, in the middle of the store?"

"I couldn't just let those ass holes say those things about Stan and I... no offense, Stan."

"Hey, I hate them more than you do," Stan stated.

"_Help!_"

Stan and I looked toward where the sound was coming from: the road. I quickly ran to the window and opened the curtains and found Kenny standing in the middle of the road.

"Kenny?" I asked, almost to myself.

"What's he doing out there?" Stan asked.

He was simply standing in the middle of the road, avoiding cars. I opened the door.

"Get off the road, Kenny!" I shouted.

"I can't!" Kenny shouted back.

"Why not?!"

Kenny lifted one of his feet and pointed at it. It was bare. Kenny was standing in the middle of the road without boots or socks.

"Why are you barefoot?!" Stan asked.

"I was walking back to my house and Cartman stole them," Kenny explained. "I don't want to step on the snow, I might get frostbite."

"Goddammit, Cartman," I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"I'll go get him," Stan said putting his jacket back on along with his Winter hat.

"Be careful, Stan," I remined him, knowing that there was no way I could stop him. "Cars could get slippery on the road with the snow. And you never know, there could be ice."

"I know," Stan said, then kissing me.

He immediately ran out of the door. I watched the whole scene from the window. The snow immediately stopped as ruby-amythest skies flooded the air. The storm may have passed in an instant, but Kenny had no intentions of getting his feet cold.

"So Cartman stole your boots?" Stan asked.

"Yeah," Kenny answered. "My socks got wet, so I jsut put them in my pocket."

"I see," Stan said to himself, stroking his chin. "So, did you want to come inside for a while?"

"First of all, you would have to carry me," Kenny instructed, but not rudely. "And second of all, I'd like to stay at your place, but Cartman threw my boots over that snow bank over there."

"What an asshole."

"I know, right?"

"Well, what did you want me to do?"

"I need you to carry me to my boots."

"But I don't know where they are."

"I'll show you, then."

"Okay, then."

Stan turned around and bent over, bending his arms so that he could tuck Kenny's legs in. "Get on," he said. And in an instant, Kenny hopped on Stan's back, wrapped his arms around his chest, and stuck his legs between his arms. Stan began to walk down the road.

"No!" Kenny shouted.

"What?" Stan asked coming to a halt.

"You're going the wrong way," Kenny corrected.

"Oh."

Stan turned around and began to walk the opposite direction. I had no idea what was going on at that time. All I saw was Kenny on Stan going one way then another. Stan almost lost his balance one time, but it made my heart melt knowing that Stan would do something like this for a friend.

Stan walked to the end of the road; it was a dead end, nothing but snow after that.

"Which way to now?" Stan asked.

Kenny looked left to right and tried to remember which way Cartman had thrown his boots. He finally remembered. "That way!" Kenny said looking down at Stan and pointing in the direction. Stan sighed in exhaustion, but then smiled and continued his way.

After about 5 minutes of trumping through snow and almost falling into a fluffy white hill, Kenny yelled.

"There!"

"Where?!"

"Right there!"

Stan looked at where Kenny's finger was pointed. He dropped Kenny's butt lightly on the snow and picked up Kenny's boots, then kneeling in front of his feet. Kenny lifted up his feet and wiggled his toes.

"Can't _you_ put them on?" Stan asked, laughing.

"Well, you already got them in your hands."

Stan grabbed one of his ankles and pushed a boot onto the foot. He repeated this with the other one. Stan stood up and helped Kenny to his feet. They began to walk to Kenny's house.

"So I heard you and Kyle went missing for a while," Kenny stated.

"Did you?" Stan asked a bit surprised, even though there were signs everywhere.

"Yeah. So I assume you fucked a bit."

"Wha?!"

"You know what they say: When two boys go missing, it just leads to kissing."

"First of all, how did you know about me and Kyle? And secondly... No one says that!"

"Well, I knew you two had a thing. I mean, Kyle told me he liked you, and when you two went missing, it took an awfully long time for you go come back home."

"Oh..."  
The rest of the walk was silent. They finally reached Kenny's small home. Kenny walked up to the door and twisted the knob, but before he walked in, he turned to Stan.

"I hope you two have the best of luck," he said with his crooked smile.

"Thanks," Stan said back, then walked away.

I couldn't handle it. Stan had been gone for a half hour and it was cold out there. If he was willing to do that for a friend, God knows what I was willing to do for my boyfriend. I didn't want him to get hurt or hit by a car or anything. I opened the door and ran out in my socks.

"Stan!" I shouted.

I saw Stan in the distance rubbing his red nose. He stood up and saw me. "Kyle?"

He walked towards me, but I continued to run. I knew I was making somewhat of a big deal out of this, but just knowing that he wasn't hurt made me feel so much better. As I ran towards him, I thought nothing could go wrong. Shit, was I wrong. I tripped on a piece of rock frozen in the side walk. I flew in the air. Not wanting for my face to be messed up by the frozen concrete, I protected my face with my arms. My arms scraped against the ground, as well as the skin. My arms started to bleed instantly, but only slightly. I wasn't crying when I sat up, but I was in immense pain. Tears _did_ fill up my eyes, but I wasn't crying nor whining. When Stan saw this, he rushed towards me and knelt.

"Kyle are you okay?!" Stan asked worried.

"Ahhh," I hissed, trying to hold back the tears. "No, I'm not okay."

I opened my eyes to look at him, and saw a bruise on his left cheek, almost bigger than mine. I wiped away the tears.

"Stan what happened?" I asked.

"What? Oh, nothing, just a scratch," he said. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," I protested. "We have to get you home."

When we finally got home, the first thing I did was run to the bathroom and pull out medicinal supplies. I sat Stan down on the floor with my bag in hand. I pulled out some disinfectant liquid and poured a bit on a cottont ball. When I dabbed some on his face, he cringed as the stinging sensation traveled to his arms and legs.

"It's okay," I said. "You can do me next."

And after I was done with him, he did. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but it had to be done. When our bandages were applied, my mom walked in and noticed that we had red noses and wer sniffling. She immediately grabbed a blanket and two cups of hot chocolate. I wrapped the blanket around the two of us and Stan handed me my mug. We each sipped and looked at each other, smiling.

Later after we had finished our hot beverages, Stan and I looked at each other, this whole time without a single word.

"You know," I began, pulling out a book from under the coffee table. "I really admire you what you did for Kenny today. It was really nice of you."

"Thanks," he said, blushing, scratching the back of his head.

"Ky-le!" I heard from the other room.

It was Ike. I looked in the direction of the stair case and there he was leaning his chin on the railing.

"What is it, Ike?" I asked turning a page.

He walked over to me, looking tired, and sat on my lap, leaning his head against my chest. He looked up at me with his big, shiny eyes. Ike didn't care that he was too old to get lap-sits.

"I'm bored," he said tugging on my sleeve.

"Well, what do you want to do?" I asked, still reading.

Ike grabbed my book and placed it next to him. "What?" I asked him, a bit annoyed.

"Let's play Wii, or something," he suggested, hopping up and down.

"I'm tired," I stated. "I just wanna sit and relax with Stan."

"Oh, come on," Ike whined. "God knows what you two do behind closed doors."

"_IKE_!"

Stan sat up, grabbed Ike, and pulled him onto his own lap.

"I'm not tired, little dude!" Stan said, trying to make it seem like he wasn't exhausted, even though he was. "What do you wanna do?"

"I dunno, what do _you_ wanna do?" Ike asked.

"How about we play a million-bajillion-kadillion rounds of hide-and seek?!"

"OK!!"

I chuckled to myself seeing Stan being so fun with my little brother. Yet _another_ thing I loved about this guy.

"Alright, I'll count," Stan said. "Run!"

Stan covered his eyes and began to count. Ike got up and was about to run downstairs.

"No peaking!" Ike warned.

"I'm not!" Stan laughed.

Ike ran downstairs with a huge smile on his face. Since his eyes were still closed, I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"You're the sweetest thing on the planet," I reminded him.

"I know," he said.

He shot up on his feet. "Ready or not, here I come!"

Stan ran upstairs in search for the little Canadian. I continued to read my book: _Wicked_ by Gregory Maguire.

Pg. 89

_"What do you think Madame Morrible was saying when she ended that Quell with the epigram _Animals should be seen and not heard_?" asked the Goat tersely._

_"Well, anyone would be upset," said Galinda. "I mean, any Animal. But it's not as if your job is threatened, is it? Here you are, still teaching us."_

_"What about my children? What about my kids?"_

_"Do you have kids? I didn't know you were married."_

_The Goat closed his eyes. "I'm not married, Miss Galinda. But I might be. Or I may. Or perhaps I have nieces and nephews. They have already been banned effectively from studying at Shiz because they can't hold a pencil to write an essay with. How many Animals have you ever seen in this paradise of education?" Well, it was true; there were none._

_"Well, I do think it's pretty dreadful," said Galinda. "Why would the Wizard of Oz_...

The phone rang. I jumped in my seat and placed my book down. I ran to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hello, Kyle." It was Mrs. Marsh.

"Mrs. Marsh?" I asked.

"Yes," she responded. "... Umm... Is my son there?"

"Uhh... Ya, he is."

"I need to talk to him," she said. She sounded meaningful. "I... I must."

"Okay," I nodded.

I held the reciever side of the phone to my chest. "Sta-an!"

Stan ran downstairs. "What?"

"T-telephone."

"Oh, cool," he said about to grab it. "Who is it?"

"It's your mom."

He stopped in his tracks and dropped his hand. "M-my mom?"

"Yeah. She says it's important."

It took Stan a while with a lot of breathing. He closed his eyes and let the air in his nose and out his mouth. Finally he opened his eyes and grabbed the phone.

"... Hi, mom."

"Hello, Stanley."

"What the fuck do you want?" he asked, not losing his cool.

"I want to know how your doing."

"I _was_ doing fine."

"I'd be lying if I told you I understood what you were going through, but..."

"I know you'd be lying. It seems to be your strongest suit ever since you told me that you would love me forever."

"Stan I want you to come home!"

"... What? ..."

"I want you home Stanley."

"But... W-why would I come home?! I kicked me out! You slapped me in my fucking face!"

I saw tears begin to surface Stan's eyes and his face's redness began to blend in with his nose. He wasn't even sad, he was just plain angry.

"I should hang up _right_ now, you bitch!"

"I know, Stan, so why haven't you hung up yet?"

Stan didn't say anything.

"Babe," Sharon continued. "We are willing to accept your homosexuality and your relationship with Kyle. We just want you to come home."

Stan looked almost convinced. I heard the whole conversation. I turned around to wipe my eyes to stop my own tears. I knew Stan was going to leave, I just knew it. Me and Stan have never been closer ever since he moved in, and now he was going back. Stan will see. He'll go home, and then just like that, they'll turn on him and I'll never see him again; they'll forbid it. They've done shit like this before. Stan noticed I was crying. He place his hand on my shoulder, but I pulled my shoulder away from his touch. I ran into the kitchen to cry on the table.

About 10 minutes later, Stan walked into the kitchen and found me with burning eyes and several scattered pieces of tissue paper all over the table. I looked up at him and looked down into the table's pattern. It was unstylish and out-of-date. That's what you get when you buy a table you've had since the early 90's. He joined me at the table.

"What took you so long?" I asked, a bit bitterly. "You hung up the phone 5 minutes ago."

"I had to... get some stuff out of my room," he answered. I nodded.

"Do you have everything you need?" I asked, not looking directly into his eyes.

"Ya, I do."

Stan then placed a sticker on the table. The sticker's peelable label had not been peeled off yet. I looked from the table to the sticker. I had no idea what it was. "What is it?"

"It's a sticker, retard," he chuckled.

I smiled. "I'm guessing I'm gonna have to see what it says?"

He nodded. I began to peel it. "Stan, so help me God, if it's a goodbye sticker, I'm never gonna stop..."

'Stan & Kyle' is what it said. "'Stan & Kyle?' Why does it say that?"

"'Cause it's going on your door upstairs," he explained. "Well, now it's _our_ door."

As tears rushed out of my eyes, I hugged Stan's neck and kissed his head multiple times. He rubbed my back to stop the onflowing streams of tears.

"But I thought you wanted to leave," I said.

"Fuck that," Stan said holding me back and looking into my redened eyes. "As long as you still love me, I never wanna leave you."

"Oh, Stan I... Wait... As long as I love you?"

"Well, _I_ love _you_."

"... I love you too, Stan."

Once again, we held each others faces as delicately as we could and joined our lips to paint the lovliest picture we could possibly fathom. With love as our paint, our bodies as our brush, and our souls as a white canvas.

I know one thing. Being alive is sometimes an obligation. To most, it is. To some, it isn't. People take their lives because the perplexing knowledge of being alive with a certain horror can drive someone into suicide for they assume that living with that horror isn't worth living for at all. Then there are the people who hope. These people usually get shat on the most. And you know what they do? They live with it. Being alive is not a chore, nor a responsibility, it is a gift. A gift filled with much stuff that can either upset or cheer one up. The ones with hope know that with every bad thing about being alive, there is a way to bring good out of it no matter how much bad things can be conjoured by it.

I am a boy with hope. I never give up. I rarely do. The thing about being alive is that there are multiple outcomes to whatever you do in life. No matter what the outcome may be, bad or good, big or small, I have to learn that it is a lesson in life, and life is not something to toy with. With the bad things in life, I know something better will come out of it. It always does. The shit things that have happened have all invlolved the love of my life, and even better things come out of that. And I'm so happy with him and that we will love each other for the rest of our lives.

My name is Kyle Broflovski. And I am the happiest boy on earth, with the knowledge that I love Stan Marsh, and he and I are happy with Being Alive.


	7. The Real Story

**NOTE: In case all of you who read the first chapter were wondering how on earth this dramatic story could possible be true, I'm here to tell you it is! I told my friend, Matteo, on msn to call me on my phone. So he calls, and I pick up kind of late and he hangs up as soon as he hears the answering machine (the scene where Stan answers the door). So I use 69 and get Matteo's phone number and he picks up and I say "You can't give up that easily!" You see? It IS true! So it takes me so much to finally tell him that I like him a lot and all those feelings that Kyle felt for Stan, I felt the exact same way for Matteo. So I'm ready to tell him and all I hear on the other side of the phone is him typing away at his keyboard. It really felt like he was ignoring the serious situation. So I tell him. And he says "What? I couldn't hear you." He probably put the phone down or something. So, of course, I do a "UUUUGGGGHHHH" just like Kyle did. So I shout to him "I LIKE YOU!" And, you guessed it, Matteo didn't have anything to say. He tried to think of something, but he couldn't. So we talked for some more and he told me he wasn't gay, but I knew he wasn't I just had to tell him or else I would look at him differently for such a long time. And instead of walking out of the door like Stan did, Matteo hung up. But unlike Kyle, I didn't run after him. I knew there was no chance in turning him gay, but there STILL is a chance for Kyle Broflovski. And that's why the little Jew ran after Stan, and that's why YOU have to keep reading!**


	8. Note from the Desk

**NOTE:** Okay, I'm back! I really hope you enjoyed 'Being Alive!' Once again, before I get to the real message, I'll remind you all about the poll on my page asking if you want a sequal to Being Alive. Just go to the page and vote. Now here's the real message:

I would like to give a couple shout-outs:

First one goes out to my number 1 fan (lol) Evie Antorcha. You pretty much left the most comments, even though there wasn't that much any way. And I'm pretty sure I've told you that your stories are pretty bomb too.

Second one goes to Enigmus. Your comments weren't long, but they seriously DID mean a whole lot. Simply Amazing lol.

Last, and most certainly not least, I would like to talk to someone called ToLikeAnOrange. After she read the first 2 chapters of my story, she came to me with one of her problems. She told me to try and reach her back, but I don't think I got a hold of her because she didn't comment back. I told her I was looking forward to her to tell me the rest and how it went. I didn't want her to think that I didn't care about her situation, and I'm glad you told me about your problem, that takes balls, even though you don't have any :). ToLikeAnOrange, if you are reading this right now, e-mail me back and tell me everything and how you've dealt with the problem. I hope it turned/turns out well for you.

Once again, go to the poll, and vote. I know I sound desperate, but for the love of God, I need to know!

I'm out!

**K. J. Pitre**


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